Chapter Sixty One
Though it happened to everyone, nonetheless it was painful to see Kalou become old. She had reached her five hundred and twentieth year, which was a long life for anyone not of my bloodline. To look at us one would think I was a man of great vitality still in his prime, while she was an old woman, grey and wrinkled. But in my eyes she was still and always would be the beautiful, fiery Kalou that had impressed me from the very first day we met.
I clearly remembered our first meeting, where I saw her courage as she faced down three men from her own tribe. I could still see Kalou standing firm, those rabbits clutched in her hand as she shouted her defiance at those men.
She had enjoyed a very good life, a life of incredible adventure and change. Kalou had started her life in a world where people lived in crude huts, wore filthy animal skins and barely subsisted on meat and roasted potatoes as they struggled to survive from day to day.
Kalou was finishing her life as queen over a vast realm, in a large home surrounded at all times by children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. She was known to her entire nation as a truly great woman, a woman of intelligence and strength; wise, courageous and faithful to God.
For over four hundred years Kalou had been my center, the one person that kept me going. I would never have changed without Kalou. I would have lived and died a self-centered, prideful and arrogant fool. Nothing that now existed; our family, our civilization, the nation we had established, could have been born without the love, the strength, and the intelligence of Kalou.
She had always been there, guiding and helping me to see my weaknesses and change my ways. Through everything in the last four hundred years Kalou had been my foundation and anchor, and I actually feared a life without her. I would love her with all my heart for the rest of my life, however long that may be.
We no longer travelled, but spent our days in Enoch, sharing our time with family and friends. I savored this time together, because I knew it would not last. As much as one could, I had become used to losing those I loved. All my closest friends and leaders from the early years were now gone, but they would never be forgotten. I had come to realize long ago that though a long life was a blessing in some ways, in other ways it was a curse.
On the day that Kalou left me I did not cry. The pain was too great to allow for tears.
As Kalou had become more fragile in her last months, more and more of our children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren had come to visit. There were hundreds of our offspring in the capital, and she was content as she was surrounded by her loved ones at her passing. A few days afterwards, though we were all yet saddened beyond words, as Kalou had requested we had a ceremony, a sad and also joyous ceremony, to remember and celebrate her wonderful life.
The day after the ceremony, as most of my family prepared to return to their homes, I pulled aside my oldest son Enoch to speak. I had made a decision and I told him of my plans. Though he was not happy, he agreed to do as I asked.
That same day I held a brief meeting with my family, where I announced my decision.
“I am no longer willing to stay in the city of Enoch, and I feel the need to travel. Enoch’s son Shadan will take over the rule of this city, and Enoch will serve as King in my stead while I am away. Perhaps I will reclaim the mantle of King some day, and I may find a new home in our land, but I will never return to Enoch to live.”
No one disagreed with me. Everyone in my family understood that I needed time to be alone; time to think.
The next day, as my family streamed out of the city returning to their homes, I also left. I traveled southeast, following the well-worn road that led to the ferry crossing of the great river. I crossed and continued onward across the wide plains.
I had not crossed the river to the eastern lands in thirty years. As Kalou had aged, I had not wanted to leave her for any extended periods of time. Since any trip across the river to visit the eastern cities would take at least two moons from start to finish, I had not gone.
There were now ten cities established in the east, and all were thriving and healthy. Each one contained a good mix of people from the cities of the west, as well as a growing number of people born on this side of the river.
I visited each one of the cities, and once I had been to each city my duty was done. I finished my travels at the city of Caranor, two days west of the pass through the Eastern Mountains.
Early one morning I said goodbye to the leader of the city, my grandson Andanar. With my face turned to the east I walked out of the city, starting towards the rising sun.
I had only a rough leather pack, the cloths on my back and my knife. The pack held one full water skin, a heavy wool cloak, a drawing my mother had made when I was a child, a drawing one of my grandchildren had made a hundred years earlier, a firestone, and a bag of food. My knife had an intricately carved wooden handle which was inset with a large, highly polished dark red rock. It had been made for me by my father. The knife and the two drawings were my most prized possessions in all the world.
I did not dwell too long on the thought that five hundred years earlier I had left behind a home with virtually the same things on my back as I ventured east into an unknown land. The only significant difference in my pack was an additional drawing. It was a beautifully wrought picture of my family. In the center of the picture were myself and Kalou, and surrounding us were our children. All of us were smiling happily.
Five hundred years ago I had not looked substantially different from the way I now appeared. I had worn the same style of clothing, carried the same items in my backpack, and carried the same knife at my side. To look at me, no one would notice a difference between the man I was then and the man I was now. No one but God.
I walked easily through the foothills towards the pass. My pace was leisurely, though inside I was taut with excitement, filled with anticipation at what I might find. It was a good feeling to have. I knew I had time and nothing to prove. Though I knew not what I would discover, it no longer mattered. There was nothing more I needed to accomplish.
I only needed to see what was ahead of me; what lay to the east. Always to the east.
Epilogue
“In the end, everything was good.”
“Now of course we all know that this is not actually true. First there was good, but evil and disobedience to God came into the world, partially by my hand. Now our family works to keep the world as good as we possibly can. But it is my story, and I shall end it however I wish... And that is the end.”
I smiled to the crowded room as I fell silent. Everyone, both children and adults, shook themselves as if coming awake out of a dream. I had seen this same reaction to the ending of my story many times over the years.
After my return from the east I had reinstituted telling my story to my offspring every five years. I had first started the tradition when we began to settle the east side of the great river. When I disappeared into the east the tradition had fallen by the wayside.
My journey of exploration to the far eastern lands had stretched to such a great length of time that my family had finally given up the hope of ever seeing me again. One day, after many decades of absence, I returned unannounced. In all the years that followed my return, I never answered the repeated questions concerning what I had found on my long journey.
To all those that asked I would reply, “You will need to discover those things for yourself.”
Once again I looked around the room at my family, which surrounded me on all sides. It was late in the day and the sun was setting. It had taken several days to tell my story, as it always did. I looked forward to this time, since I was now a very old man, and I never knew if I would live to tell my tale again. So I always treated it with respect, making sure to leave out nothing in the telling.
I repeated what I had said to my family at the beginning of the story, “Hopefully one, or perhaps even more than one of you has learned something. My wish is that you will leave this room a litt
le wiser then when you first entered.”
And with that simple conclusion, I rose and walked into the fading light of the day.
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Thank you for reading In The Beginning. There’s more to come, but since I’m a slow writer it may be a while. If you enjoyed it, please take a moment to leave me a review at your favorite retailer.
Thanks!
Richard Webber
In The Beginning Page 61
